Obsessed
by whitetiger91
Summary: Roses, masked balls, hot Quidditch players: what more could Katie ask for? Not to have a stalker? Pfft, like that would happen.


**Obsessed**

Everyone had an obsession, of that Katie was sure. Her mother was obsessed with collecting porcelain figurines, her father with exotic women. Lee Jordan was now obsessed with Muggle rock music, Angelina Johnson with making George Weasley feel better again. Even Oliver Wood had an unhealthy obsession with everything Quidditch—one that had ended up costing him his relationship with her. Yes, whether healthy or not, everyone had an obsession, and it was just Katie's luck that she was someone's.

"I'm telling you, I'm not going!"

"But, Katie, you have to! You know Lee's making bets about how many single people he can snog at the party—and that I won't be able to resist him. Please, I need you there," Leanne begged, clasping her hands in front of her and batting her eyelashes.

Katie rolled her eyes, used to her friend's antics. "I'm not going when I have a stalker following me everywhere! I know Flint will be there, and trust me, after everything he has done the last few months, I'd rather go back to Potions than be in the same room as him."

A shiver shot up Katie's spine at the very thought of Marcus Flint, but she suppressed it by folding her arms across her chest.

"Ugh, why do you have to be so stubborn? Flint is just a creep—well, I mean, he finally fixed those teeth and looks better—but anyway, it's not like he is going to do anything in a crowded room," Leanne said.

Moving a few of the satin dress robes and matching masks Leanne had laid out, Katie sunk down onto one of the lounges.

Her friend followed her, picking up a gold and green mask and holding it up to her eyes. "Please, Katie, there'll be heaps of other people there— _hot, male_ Professional Quidditch players. Besides, what am I supposed to do with all these other masks and dresses?"

"Well, in that case, how can I refuse?" Katie asked, plastering a smile on her face.

"Yes!" Maria dropped the mask and clapped her hands, dancing around the small room.

The smile on Katie's face dropped and she rolled her eyes again. "Maybe like this: I'm not going."

* * *

 _ **A few months earlier**_

 _It had been a month since Oliver had been kicked out of their apartment and Katie thought it had never looked cleaner. Although she had kept a few Quidditch memorabilia here and there, there were no more signed posters covering every inch of wall space, nor were there any dirty socks or Quidditch boots lying around. She even had a clean bathroom, where the sink was not smudged with toothpaste spit and the toilet seat was never left up._

 _If it weren't for the neighbours on the quarter-acre block behind her revving up their lawnmower every Sunday morning at 7am, she would have said her place was absolutely perfect._

 _Taking a sip of her coffee, Katie leant forward and picked up the less ominous of the envelopes lying on her coffee table, waiting for her attention. It was a simple one, made out of cream parchment with no return address, just her name in elegant calligraphy. It was almost too pretty to open, yet she ripped it anyway, tearing the side carefully._

 _Almost immediately, she wished she hadn't. Along with a crimson rose, out fell a piece of parchment with the same calligraphy, reading:_

'Katie,

I thought you would like to add this to your collection. Don't you forget me. Ever."

 _Looking at the rose, Katie shuddered. Rather than put it in a vase, Katie used another envelope to push it off the lounge, not daring to touch it, and scrunched up the letter. Whoever had been sending her the roses that week had also sent similar letters—albeit in different writing—begging her to be with whoever was sending them. At first, she had thought it was Oliver playing a joke on her, but when they continued to come, she realised it was someone much sicker._

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 _Looking over at the window, she saw an owl on the ledge with a grey and white scarf wrapped around its leg. Slowly, Katie stood and moved to the window, prying it open just enough to take the scarf. There, stitched onto the tip, was the Falmouth Falcons crest._

 _There was only one person she knew who played for the Falmouth Falcons, and only one person sick enough to send her threatening notes._

* * *

Katie huffed and looked around the ballroom. Some witches and wizards donned in their finest dress robes waltzed around the polished floor, whilst others stood in clusters under the crystal chandeliers—useless, considering their poor lighting capabilities—talking and laughing.

Of course, the reason Katie was here now was off chatting up the Beater for Puddlemere United. Katie watched Leanne trailing her fingers up and down the wizard's muscly arm whilst sending furtive glances at Lee Jordan. Really, she had no clue why Leanne had needed her to come along, and if she didn't feel the need to make sure Leanne didn't make a complete fool of herself, she would've left the second they had walked into the manor.

Taking off the too-tight mask that wasn't helping her headache, Katie began to make her way to one of the tables placed along the walls. Perhaps if she found a chair in one of the more dimly lit areas, she could while away a few hours in relative peace.

Unfortunately, it seemed she wasn't the only one who was thinking that way. Before she could reach a table, a wizard dressed in fine, black robes sidled over to the table. His dark hair glistened in the light, sticking up in a few places despite the gel that was supposed to hold it down. In his left hand he held a large black mask made to cover half a face, decorated with an intricate silver pattern, and wrapped around his shoulders was a Falmouth Falcon scarf.

Katie gasped when the man took his seat and began to survey the room. It wasn't long before his dark eyes met her own brown eyes, piercing into them, and his thin lips curled into a large smile.

Shuddering, Katie moved as far away from Marcus Flint as possible.

* * *

 _ **Three weeks earlier**_

 _It had been a week since the last—and hundredth—rose arrived by owl, and almost a month since the scarf. She had not wanted to leave the house at all, even going so far as to owl Leanne to sleep over a few days, yet now with the food running out, it seemed she had no choice._

 _As Katie walked down the street now, however, she was beginning to think her diet didn't really matter. Every passer-by seemed to be watching her every move. She was sure that she could hear footsteps behind her, too, and yet when she turned around, there was no one there._

 _Covering the last few metres at an almost-jog, Katie finally made it into the safety of her local shop. As soon as she stepped into the warm air inside, a wave of relief washed over her._

 _Taking a minute to grab a few quick breaths, Katie picked up a basket and began strolling down the aisles. She was being silly; Marcus Flint would not be caught dead anywhere near a Muggle grocery store. Besides, now that she no longer had a boyfriend skipping off to the frozen yoghurt section and then asking if they were finished, she could actually enjoy taking her time and browsing what was on offer._

 _Moving down each aisle, Katie selected fruit, vegetables, bread–everything to her heart's content. When she got to the cake mix section, her heart beat faster. Tossing cupcakes, pudding, date loaf and muffin packets into her basket, Katie found all her troubles slipping away as she indulged in her sugar obsession._

 _Reaching for a packet of devil's food cake, she knew exactly what she would start with first. Pulling it down, she gasped when a pair of dark, brown eyes met her own. They seemed to be watching her, unblinking. Putting the cake packet back, Katie took a deep breath. No, she was just being paranoid again; it was simply another customer looking at whatever was on the shelf in the other aisle._

 _Collecting herself, Katie picked up the packet again, and, just as she had expected, found no eyes staring at her. Just to be sure, she walked to the next aisle. Filling her basket with a few packets of carbonara, she glanced down the aisle. Only an elderly couple stood there, arguing over which packet of pasta was the cheapest; there was no stalker and no danger._

 _Still, Katie decided it best to leave and hurried to the register to pay for her things._

 _Perhaps if she had taken longer in the shop, she wouldn't have dropped one of her bags on the pavement, or to have felt the need to run home with only half her stuff. For there, standing across the street talking to some Muggle girl, was Marcus Flint._

* * *

Katie closed her eyes and crossed her fingers behind her back. After heading for the opposite side of the ballroom and disappearing into the crowd of swirling couples, she had thought that she had lost Marcus altogether. It wasn't to be, however, and as she stood praying that he walked on by, she knew it wouldn't be any use.

"May I have this dance?"

Opening her eyes, Katie looked at the man before her. He had donned his mask since the last time she had seen him, and though his shoulders looked a little less hulk-like close-up, there was no mistaking the evil smirk upon his face.

"Do you honestly think I would say—"

Before she could deny him, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, wrapping one arm around her waist and gripping her left hand. As she tried to pull away, he turned them in a circle and pulled her closer.

"Don't you know I think you're repulsive?" Katie said, still squirming.

Rather than getting angry, Marcus chuckled. "You may have mentioned it once or twice," he said with a faint Scottish accent.

"Unbelievable. It's one thing to stalk me, but to adopt a false accent? Pathetic."

"C'mon, just relax and enjoy this moment," Marcus said, spinning her around.

Trying and failing to wrench her hand out of his, Katie glared at him. "Oh yes, I'm really enjoying this. You have rough hands and horrible shoes. Are you Amish or something? You'd have to be backward enough to think I'd ever relax."

Chuckling again, Marcus brought her closer to him. "I almost forgot how much I missed your humour." Then, leaning in, he sniffed her neck. "I missed more than that, though."

* * *

 _ **One day earlier**_

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 _Freezing, Katie stopped setting up a plate of biscuits and swung her gaze to the small living room window. There, perched on the ledge and looking more like a drowned rat, was a small barn owl holding a pile of soggy letters._

 _Katie needed to take a few deep breaths before she walked over to the window and pried it open to let the wet animal in out of the rain. The owl pecked her finger as she shut the window, before flying off to the coffee table to_ peck _at the biscuits._

 _Picking up the letters the owl had dumped on the window bench, Katie held them by the topmost corner, lest they should be poisoned or something. It was a ridiculous notion, really, but after seeing Marcus Flint the week before, she couldn't help but be a little cautious. She flipped through them one by one, checking for each return address. Bills, work paycheck, Quibbler flyer, more bills; everything seemed fine._

 _Letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding, Katie took a few Sickles from a jar on the bench and walked over to the little owl. The owl ignored her, scoffing down a few biscuits and scattering crumbs everywhere._

 _"C'mon little fella, be careful. You're making a huge mess," she said._

 _With a small_ hoot _, the owl hopped away from her, knocking a bowl of crisps to the floor. When it saw what it had done, the owl gave another_ hoot _._

 _"Very cute. Look, if you don't behave yourself, I might just have to send you back out into the rain. It looks like it's pouring dow—" Katie had glanced out the window, intending to check that her threat wasn't empty when the words died on her lips._

 _There, peeping through her window, was a pair of dark eyes. Katie shook her head and rubbed her eyes, stumbling back onto the couch. No, it couldn't be—he couldn't be there watching her, couldn't be_ that _obsessed with her._

 _Looking back at the window, all Katie could now see was the tip of a dark grey and white scarf fluttering past, soon replaced by the normal, dreary view of the neighbour's back fence and the pouring rain._

* * *

"That's enough, get off me!" Katie said, finally wrenching her hand from Marcus' grip.

"Aw c'mon, I know you loving dancing," he said, meeting her scowl with a grin. "Fine, at least let me show you something. You might actually change your mind."

Katie crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "Yeah, right."

Chuckling again, Marcus began to walk away. "Just trust me."

Katie watched his retreating back, half-amazed at the way the crowd seemed to part for him. She had a choice now: to run away, find Maria and get help, or to follow him to who-knows-where and pray she could end his crazed behaviour once and for all.

Unfortunately, just as luck wasn't on her side, nor was common sense.

Seeing that Maria was now chatting up a Portree reserve Seeker, Katie hitched up her dress and followed Marcus out of the ballroom. She knew every room in the Wood manor, including several secret passageways, and should she get in trouble, reasoned she would find a way out.

She soon found Marcus, still wearing his mask, in an unused study down the hall. She had visited the room with Oliver quite a few times in the past and realised that it was one of the few places without a Floo connection. Marcus was leaning against the desk, a smirk on his face and twirling a crimson rose in his hands.

"I knew you'd come, that you wouldn't forget about me," he said, moving away from the table.

"It's kind of hard to forget about you when you're sending me 'gifts' all the time."

Marcus smiled, taking a step forward. "So you got them then? Good, I'm glad."

Katie glared at him, taking a step back. "I want an end to this now, you hear me? You are nothing to me, _nothing_."

Finally, the smile slipped off his face. Raising a hand to tousle his brown hair, he said, "I really wish you would stop pretending that you don't want me. I love you, you know that, and I really think we could be happy together if we gave it a proper shot."

"Stay away," she said as Marcus took another step forward.

Her voice cracked a little, and though she tried to hide it, she could feel her knees begin to wobble.

Marcus stopped his advance and sighed. "I won't harm you. I know I haven't exactly treated you the best in the past—"

"You can say that again."

"—but I've changed, I really have. I want us to try again, work stuff out."

Katie shook her head, taking a few more steps towards the door.

Unfortunately, Marcus was just that bit quicker and closed in the space between them. Gripping her wrist, he said, "Please, Katie, just think about it."

"No!"

"C'mon, we can work it all out—"

"I said no!" Katie slapped away the rose he held, causing it to fall to the floor. She tried to stamp his foot, yelping as it only made his grip on her tighter.

"Ow! C'mon…"

"I believe the lady said 'no.'" Both Katie and Oliver stopped struggling as a deep voice interrupted them.

Turning to the doorway, Katie could see a wizard standing there, a scowl on his face. Dark hair, no longer held by gel, fell into his equally dark eyes, and he was holding a silver and black mask.

"Oh, piss off, Flint. I'm trying to talk to my girlfriend," Marcus—or not Marcus—said, recovering first.

Katie's mouth fell open, but before she could grasp what was going on, the real Marcus strolled forward, pulled back his fist, and then sent it crashing into her stalker's face.

The wizard stumbled back, whipping off his mask to rub the bruise already forming on his cheek. "Oi, what was that for?" he said.

Gasping, Katie stared at the wizard. "Oliver?"

Oliver continued to rub his face, his eyes narrowed in a glare at the real Marcus Flint, who stood stroking his wrist. Katie stepped forward to help him up before the pieces clicked back into place.

"You? You're the one who's been following me? Watching me in the shopping centre?" Lifting a hand to her chest, Katie tried to control her breathing. "What—why—it can't be!"

"I wanted to show you I could take care of you, that I still think about you," Oliver said, turning sad eyes to her.

"By stalking me?"

"Please understand…"

Shaking her head, Katie turned towards the door. "You're obsessed, and not just with Quidditch," she whispered.

Striding back into the darkened ballroom, her chest still heaving and hot tears threatening to spill down her face, she strived to remind herself that everything would be ok. Although it had been her ex-boyfriend—someone, despite their breakup, she had trusted—she had finally gotten to the bottom of the case, and now knew who to look out for.

"Bell, erm, Katie! Wait up!"

Spinning around, Katie turned to Marcus, unable to help the tingle that flew up her spine. Meeting his gaze, all she could think of were the months she had spent fearing him, the years despising him—of all the time she had probably been wrong about it.

Squashing down the guilt of what she had accused him of, she paused.

"Erm, well, I—I suppose I wanted to check if you were alright. Wood was off his rocker," he said, looking down at his feet.

Katie blinked. "Oh, um, yes, thank you. You really didn't have to do that."

Marcus didn't say anything for a while, continuing to look at his feet. Feeling a little awkward, Katie made to head for Leanne, who, lo-and-behold, was wrapped in Lee's arms.

"Oh."

Chewing on her lip, Katie walked closer to Marcus, who was now heading to the nearest table.

"Would you like to dance with me?" she blurted out.

Marcus froze. Katie could see his back straighten, and before she could change her mind, asked in a smaller voice, "Dance? With me?"

Marcus turned to her, his face slowly lighting up with a dazzling, white smile. Walking back to her, he nodded his head and took her outstretched hand. "Alright, Bell, as long as you don't become obsessed with me," he whispered.

"Never," she replied, and allowed him to guide her around the room.

* * *

 _ **This fic was written as a gift for HP Slash Luv who, with her Hogwarts team, won the Scavenger Hunt on The Golden Snitch forum. Congratulations!**_

 _ **I apologise if this isn't quite the Katie/Marcus you were looking for—I can definitely see why many people ship them, but I'm afraid it's been a while since I've last written a one-shot this size, or any fic really.**_

 _ **I also apologise in advance for any plotholes this may have (trust me, the whole mask thing frustrated me in the 'A Cinderella Story' movie starring Hilary Duff, and you're probably asking why she didn't recognise her own ex. Well... can I use dim lighting as an excuse? Or magic? No? Oh poo). I adore Oliver too, so please note that his appearance was more for fun, and not what I really think about him.**_

 _ **Apologies too to any Amish people who happen to come across this fic (by however means); the quote was a prompt, and I'm sure you're all very great people :)**_

 _ **Speaking of, this fic will also be submitted to the Scream Queens Halloween Competition on the Diagon Alley II forum.**_

 ** _Prompts:_**

 _ **Character: Hester Ulrich - Write about a crazy bitch. (In this case: Oliver).**_

 _ **Dialogue: "You have rough hands. And horrible shoes. Are you Amish or something?" - Channel Oberlin**_

 _ **Song: "Don't You (Forget About Me)" by Simple M**_

 _ **Murder prompt: Lawnmower**_

 _ **Colour palette: Crimson**_

 _ **A huge thank you for reading this, I hope it was somewhat enjoyable :)**_


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